


The Dragon Princess

by Little_Insomniac



Series: Skyrim's Dragon Princess [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dawnguard, Dragonborn DLC, F/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Skyrim Civil War, Skyrim Main Quest, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-01 20:33:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11494221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Insomniac/pseuds/Little_Insomniac
Summary: Everything in her life was finally going right, keyword WAS.  Join Lyrica on her quest to save her country from falling into chaos. There will be violence, and maybe love?





	1. Rising Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello there new friends. I'm a bit new to this here site, but I figured that maybe posting my fic here too would be pretty nice. Anyways... here we go... Hope you all enjoy!

 

#  Chapter 1: Rising Storm

 

_ 8th of Last Seed 4E 201 _

##  Aron 

“She's terrifying, isn't she?”, He asked putting a hand on his older brother’s shoulder. 

 

“And you are not?” The elder replied looking back, a sigh escaping his lips, “Must you always sneak up like that Aron?” 

 

Aron’s lips grew into a sheepish grin, “Sorry Tor, it's my nature. Can't help it.” 

 

Torygg shook his head, “I should know by now. And to answer your question, yes, our dear little sister is certainly a force to be reckon with.” 

 

Aron stepped forward to join Torygg, leaning casually against the banister. In the courtyard below stood their darling sister, training sword in hand and breathing heavily. Around her magically animated practice dummies lay destroyed. He watched as she wiped sweat from her brow and a fierce smile drew itself upon her lips. 

 

“The guards still too afraid to practice with her?” Aron asked casually nodding towards the hay strewn across the yard. It was a well known fact in the capital that you shouldn't spar with the High King’s little sister unless you wanted to be injured.  

 

“Aye,” he nodded, stifling a laugh. “But she insists on practicing daily. Thankfully Sybille came came up with this solution. I'm fairly certain the guards don't want her breaking any more of their bones.” 

 

“I figured. And she still wishes to join the Legion? ” He asks curiously. “As much as I think she'd be a welcome addition to their ranks, and that she is a more than capable warrior, I don't like the sound of it.” 

 

“Unfortunately, she does.” Torygg replied frowning. “Nothing I say seems to get through to her either. She insists upon joining, it's a conversation we have near daily.” 

 

“But why? She knows being a foot soldier would put her in near constant danger.” Aron asks keeping an eye on the girl below. 

 

“Brother you know exactly why, she wants to fight.” His voice shrunk down to a whisper. “She wants to fight the Thalmor. She also wants to see the world. I can't say I blame her, but it isn't safe right now. Anyone could hold her as leverage over my head if she were to be captured.” 

 

Aron rolled his eyes, “she does realize she can do that without risking her life on a daily basis, doesn't she? We could send her to another country as an ambassador or the like. Anything but joining the Legion is a better option.” 

 

“I've tried explaining, but she doesn't listen.” Torygg sighed. “You know how Lyrica is. Once it's in her mind, it has to be her way or nothing. Don’t you remember when she was little and just  _ had  _ to climb onto her horse alone.” 

 

He nods, “And then she fell on her arse, giggled and tried again.” Aron thought about it for a moment,  “Well, as High King, can't you stop her? Order her into staying here or something along those lines.”

 

“I could, but commanding her to stay in Solitude would likely only push her further away. You and I both know she doesn't like receiving orders.” He contemplated it for a moment. “If only there were a way to convince her not to go….” 

 

“Well, you could arrange a marriage for her?” Aron suggested. “I even know the perfect man. Saerlund, Jarl Laila’s son. He supports the empire,  _ and  _ he's a noble. Plus if Lyrica were to marry him, she'd likely move to Riften. I could keep an eye on her that way. Plus Saerlund is the eldest so one day he'll be Jarl. Think of it Torygg. She'll get to be outside of Solitude. The Rift is beautiful. Maybe she'll consider it an adventure.” Aron wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was quite proud of his plan. That is until Torygg outright laughed at the suggestion. 

 

“Aron,” he chuckled, “dear brother. Truly you are mad. Lyrica will never agree to an arranged marriage. Brother, do you think before you speak? Your plan is rather half baked.” 

 

“What do you mean? I’d say it was well thought out.” Aron replied indignantly. 

 

“Aron. Saerlund likes men, and his mother took away his right to the throne when he announced he was an Imperial supporter.” Torygg said matter of factly. 

 

“So? Arranged marriages are like a business deal. Not all of them are based on love.” Aron said thinking. “Besides maybe with Lyrica in Riften she could convince Laila to grant Saerlund his birthright back. Saerlund and I talk occasionally. He's loyal to you brother. He would understand were we to arrange this marriage. In this way we could win back Riften from Ulfric’s grasp.” 

 

“Aron, stop. It's a bad idea. Trust me. Besides, we both know Lyrica would never go for it.” Torygg said. He then motioned for him to look down, “I could let you suggest it if you wish?  _ You  _ can have that fight, I will not.  I will give her 

 

Below, their sister stood in the training yard of Castle Dour, this time a bow in hand. A few guards had joined her. They stood in a line taking turns firing arrows into targets. This time the men and women did not shy away. If there was one thing Lyrica did well, it was shoot a bow. She never missed the target and often the guards would consult her on how to better their own aim. This gave Torygg an idea. 

 

“Wait a moment…. Aron. I've had a thought.” Torygg began. 

 

“And what may that be?” The younger asked looking up from his sister, who'd just split an arrow clean in half. 

 

“I know how to keep Lyrica from joining the Legion, and how to make her feel as if she's doing her part to help the cause. I will name her Jarl of Solitude.” Torygg said with certainty.   

 

“Jarl of Solitude? There hasn't been a Jarl in Solitude since father took the throne.” Aron replied. 

 

“That's because there was no need for it then. However, now I have need. As High King I have much to do, with a civil war looming in the future. That and the prospect of going to war with the Aldmeri Dominion.  It would be in my best interests if I didn't have to see to the needs of Solitude, but rather that of Skyrim as a whole.” Torygg finished, liking more and more the sound of his plan. 

 

“Are you sure she's ready to rule?” Aron asked. “She’s just barely of age…”

 

“You worry too much, remember. She's the one who went and stopped the Wolf Queen’s return, on her own.” Torygg said. “Besides. She won't have to do it all alone. Falk and the rest of the court are still going to be there. She'll have advisers and Thanes at her side. Think of it Aron. She stays here where she's safe, and she gets to be useful. Never mind how she used to sit on father’s lap during councils and in court.”

 

Aron hesitated for a moment before speaking. “You're right. You always have been… Tor it's a great idea. Now when will you tell her?” 

 

“Tomorrow.” He said firmly. “I think it would be best if I announce it in front of everyone at the festival. If she knows she has a duty she'll be less likely to run off.” 

 

“So you think,” Aron scoffed. “It wouldn't be the first time Lyrica has done something questionable. Anyways. I have some… Er, business, to take care of back at the Blue Palace.” 

 

He turned to leave, but Torygg stopped him. “Is that so? Not your normal  _ business _ , is it?” 

 

“No, no. We both know none of my men or myself are going to do  _ business  _ at the Palace.” Aron sighed. “This strange beggar stopped me on my way over here. Handed me this.” He motioned to  his bag. “It's a hipbone, he claimed it was Pelagius’.  Said to go to the Pelagius wing. That someone is inside. I told him he must be mistaken that wing has been closed off for years! Ever since Lyrica and I snuck in. He insisted someone was there. So I'm going to go investigate.” 

 

“You just really love to get your nose in everyone's business. Don't you?” Torygg asked amused. “Go ahead, I will see you at dinner brother. Ask Falk for the key. I doubt even you could pick that lock, after all you’re the reason father had it changed.” 

 

“As you say.” He replied with a nod and hurried off towards the Blue Palace. 

* * *

  
  


##  Amelia

 

When she entered the General’s study he was looking over reports.  Not wanting to interrupt, she stood at attention and quietly waited for him to finish.  A moment or two passed and he looked up at her.

 

“How many times have I told you, if it’s just you and I, you don’t need to be so formal?” General Tullius shook his head and motioned for her to sit.

 

“Sorry sir, er… Uncle.” She replied taking her seat, “I just thought it would be best to be formal. I was, after all ordered here.  I assumed it was for official legion business.” 

 

He shook his head once more, “No, not this time.”

 

“Then why order me here?” She asked watching her uncle put away his work for the day. 

 

“You weren't ordered here, I only asked for someone to grab you, not order.” He sighed, “I'll talk to the men later, but that's besides the point. I've called you here to invite you to dinner this evening.” 

 

“Dinner?” She asked curiously, “as in not whatever there is in the mess hall?” 

 

“Correct, dinner, as in with the High King and his family.” The General replied. “He has invited me, and a guest to the Blue Palace this evening.” 

 

“So you're taking me?” Amelia confirmed, “are you sure?” 

 

“Yes, it's not an official state dinner, and he said his family would be there, so I feel it's only fair I bring mine.” 

 

“...And I am your only family in Skyrim.” She finished for him.  “As you wish, Uncle.” 

 

“That's my girl, now go get cleaned up,” he smiled, “that's an order.” 

 

“Yes, sir!” Amelia gave a half salute before leaving. 

* * *

  
  
  


##  Aron 

 

“Why in the world do you need the key to get into the Pelagius Wing?” Falk Firebeard asked looking at Aron with concern. “This have anything to do with your  _ job _ ?” 

 

“No, no, Falk. It's nothing like that…” Aron replied with a sigh. “It's a long story… But supposedly there's someone, or something in there, and I want to check on it and make sure it's not a threat to anyone in the castle.” 

 

To be perfectly honest Aron, as usual, had absolutely no clue what was going on. He'd been on his way back from checking in on Gulum-Ei in the Skeever when a delirious old man had caught his attention. He'd rambled on about how his master was at the Blue Palace visiting a friend. In the Pelagius wing of all places. Aron has tried reassuring the man that no one was there. The wing sealed off ages ago and even he couldn't get the lock to budge, and  _ that's _ saying something. In the end he couldn't get the old man to let up unless he promised he'd check it. Well, curiosity got the best of him so he decided he would check anyways.  It was always better to be safe than sorry.  

 

“You're sure about this?” The steward asked cautiously. 

 

“Yes I am sure. Torygg told me to ask you for the key.” Aron sighed. He hated this. Just because he was a thief didn't mean he was going to steal from his own family.  “You know I don't lie to those close to me.” 

 

Falk nodded, pulling out a key and handing it over. “Fine. Go about your business, but don't stay in there too long. You've heard the stories.” 

 

He nodded his thanks, “I'll return the key to you once I'm done.  I do not intend to go in until after dinner.  My brother has informed me my presence there is required.” 

* * *

 

##  Torygg

 

“My love? Are you busy?” His wife’s voice called softly from the door. “May we speak?” 

 

“Fair Elisif, even though the political affairs of Skyrim keep me busy, know this. I am never too busy for you.”, Torygg replied shutting the ledger he had been writing in. “Please, come in. It is about time I stop for the day anyhow.” 

 

She smiles and closes the door softly behind her, “Not a day goes by that I do not thank the Eight Divines for giving me a husband as caring as you.”

 

Often Torygg forgot, until moments like these, that his gentle wife had grown up in High Rock where they followed the rules of the White-Gold Concordat to a tee. He did not hold contempt for her because of it, rather pitied her for not knowing of a great Nord hero as he had known him growing up. Every child in Skyrim knew of the great man turned Divine, Talos. With the Thalmor in place to keep check on them, many of Torygg’s people only worshiped the Ninth Divine in private now. 

 

“It is them I should also thank for giving me you?” He asks getting up from his seat to greet his wife. “Was there something important? Or did you just wish to spend time together?” No no that wasn't right. “That's not to say I find spending time with you unimportant…”

 

“Torygg, I understand what you mean.” She says cutting him off. “Perhaps you truly did need to stop early this evening. You could use a break. I am glad to have reason to distract you, if only for a little while. Yes, my love, I have something very important to tell you.” 

 

“And what is that?” The young king asked looking at his wife.  Thought their marriage had been arranged, he loved her dearly.  

 

Elisif smiled a blush blooming on her face. He could tell that whatever she had to say clearly was causing his bride a great amount of joy. “Well,” she began. Torygg watched as she subconsciously played with the trim of her sleeves. “You know how we've been trying for that… Thing… For some time now? Right?” 

 

Could it be true? Divines, he hoped so. Standing, he quickly closed the space between them, embracing her in a hug. “Do you mean to tell me Mara has finally blessed us?”

 

“She has indeed, my love, we have finally been blessed with a child of our own.” Elisif was besides herself with joy.  “Oh Torygg, I have waited for this moment for so long!”

 

“As have I, my dear wife.” He replied leaning down to kiss her.  Torygg rested his forehead against her’s, a smile playing on his lips,  “Are you sure?”

 

“Yes, I just came up from seeing Sybille, aside from her, you are the first one to know.” Elisif said, eyes meeting his, “She said I am about a month along.”

 

“That is fantastic news.” Torygg smiled, “Would you be opposed to perhaps announcing it this evening?”

 

“Nothing would make me happier, now come with me.  We must freshen up before dinner.  Remember, we are hosting General Tullius this evening” She replied kissing his cheek, “Oh Torygg, my love, we are going to be parents!”

 

“Aye, and I could not be happier.” Torygg was ecstatic, things were starting to look up.  He could not be more pleased.  

 

Lyrica would be near and still have a purpose, he and his wife had finally produced an heir, and the Legion would soon back his plans to help restore the empire.  There was only one kink in his plans, the Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak.  Torygg hoped perhaps he would see reason, if only he can get the war hardened veteran to listen.  He pushed the thought away.  He would figure that out later, for now, he would celebrate the brighter side of things.  

 

* * *

 

##  Amelia

 

“Remember, you are not a soldier this evening, just the General’s niece”, She repeated this once more to herself.  It was odd for her to drop formalities in public.  Tonight she was not Private Tullius, just Amelia.  

 

_ Just  _ Amelia was lost, in more ways than one.  For one, she could not remember the last time she was herself and not a member of the Imperial Legion.  However, that would cease to be an issue if she did not find her way to the dining hall.  She was not yet familiar with the Blue Palace, and had managed to take a wrong turn.

 

“And they say  _ I’m  _ the crazy one.” A male voice said behind her.  She turns and meets smiling green eyes, “Sorry, did I frighten you? I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in this area.”

 

She shook her head, “No, but it is disconcerting that you were able to sneak up on me like this.” Hardly anyone could slip up on her like that.  “I apologize, it seems I am lost.”

 

He shrugged, as if that statement wasn’t unusual.  “Well, perhaps you have finally meet your match.” The young man put his hand out, “Oh, I suppose I should introduce myself.  Aron Night-Blade, at your service.”

 

She shook his hand, as a sudden realization occurred to her, “You’re Prince Aron?”  She’d heard very little of the middle royal sibling, other than he was a bastard, and had left to find his own path in life.  She knew he often returned to visit his siblings, but not much else. Quickly she took her hand away from his and instead gave him a proper bow.  

 

Aron laughed touching the circlet on his brow, “So it seems I am, but please Aron is fine.” He motioned for her to rise.  “You still haven’t introduced yourself.”

 

“Oh, right, my apologies.” She cleared her throat, “Private Amelia Tullius, sir.  I mean, I’m Amelia.” 

 

“Pleasure to meet you.” Aron replied, “How has Skyrim treated you thus far?” 

 

Amelia nodded, keeping it formal, “Very well sir, if a bit cold.” She said honestly, “It is an honor to be here under General Tullius’ command.” 

 

“I believe I heard you say you are not a soldier this evening, please do not stand on formalities for my benefit.” He laughed, “I assure you, I am the last person you need to worry about being formal around.” 

 

“Are you sure? It feels wrong to not use the proper niceties.” Amelia asked looking around, “I do not mean to disrespect anyone around here.” 

 

He laughed again, smirking at her. 

 

“What's so funny?” She asks indignantly, “Why are you laughing at me?” 

 

“You really are still new to Skyrim, aren't you?” He asked. “Don't worry about insulting anyone. I doubt you can disrespect any of us.  You'll find that, unlike Cyrodiil, we do not constantly stand on ceremony.” 

 

“I will venture to adhere to your local customs then.” Amelia smiled, “Though, I do believe it will be frowned upon if the High King’s brother was later for dinner.”

 

“Oh… riiiight,” Aron motioned for her to follow him, “Let’s go then, that’s why you’re here right? Tor said he invited the general to dinner this evening.”

 

“And I am his only family here in Skyrim, and so he invited me to join him.” Amelia replied, following the prince to the dining hall.

* * *

 

##  Lyrica

“...and no bothering the General about joining the Legion this evening,” Elisif continued, straightening out her dress. “Please, Lyrica, this is a dinner for pleasure, not business.”

 

“I know Elisif, I promise, I won’t bring it up.” She replied, trying hard not to fidget too much.  “If I’m being honest, joining the Legion is the last thing on my mind right now.  I’m far too excited for tomorrow night to think that far ahead.”

 

“And your brother and I are both very proud of you.” Elisif placed a plain silver circlet on Lyrica’s brow.  The queen beamed down at the Princess,  “I remember when I first meet you; you were only eight years old, and hid behind your father most of the time.”

 

Lyrica nodded, following her sister-in-law to the dining room, “And you were, and still are, one of the prettiest ladies I had ever seen.  So pretty, I was afraid to speak to you.” 

 

Elisif blushed, “You’re too sweet Lyrica, as you were back then.  You eventually opened up to me, and became the younger sister I always wanted.  Tomorrow you will graduate, and become a full-fledged bard. To think, that shy little girl has become one of the top performers of her class.” 

 

“And I owe it all to you and my brothers for supporting me.” Lyrica beamed.  At 18 years old, she would also be one of the youngest in her class.  She had worked hard for this moment, and her performance at the festival tomorrow was the crowning moment. “To think, you couldn't even get me to speak in front of strangers!” 

 

The High Queen stifled a laugh, “and now it's rare that we can get you to be quiet for more than a moment.” 

 

Lyrica could hear chatter from the dining room as they approached.  It would seem her and Ellie were the last ones to arrive.  The two entered the room, and were escorted to their seats, Elisif to Torygg’s left and Lyrica next to Aron on the right.  Opposite Torygg, the General sat, a girl between Aron and Lyrica’s age next to him.  Lyrica smirked, allowing Aron to be a gentlemen and help her sit. “Why thank you brother. Always such the gentlemen.” 

 

“Of course little sister,” He replied slipping into his seat., “I’ve got to make a good impression our guests, don’t I?” 

 

“Because you of all people care what others think,” Lyrica rolled her eyes, “Hello General Tullius, you seem less serious than normal!” She then looked across the table to the girl sitting next to Elisif, “I don’t think we’ve met yet, I’m Princess Lyrica, nice to meet you.” 

 

The girl went to open her mouth to reply, but before she could the King spoke.  

 

“Lyri…”, Torygg sighed from the head of the table. “Why must you be like this?”

 

“No, it’s fine, your highness.” General Tullius replied, “Your sister is not wrong.  With everything going on right now, it’s nice to take a break, even if it is only for an evening.” 

 

Now, Aron spoke, “Oh and that nice young lady is Private Amelia Tullius, or she means Amelia.” He laughed at something that Lyrica could only assume was some sort of inside joke.  

 

“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you then, Amelia.” Lyrica beamed, “Though it seems my brother has meet you first.”

 

“And you as well, Princess Lyrica.  I have hear many things about you.” Amelia replied.  She gave the Princess a smile, “Your brother actually helped me find my way here, I had gotten  turned around on my way here.”

 

And so Lyrica broke the ice and as it always was with her, kept the conversation going throughout dinner.  Elisif was proud, she only brought up the Legion twice.  Once dessert was served, Torygg spoke.

 

“There is something I would like to announce.” He began, “And I cannot think of any company besides present to share it with.”

 

Lyrica looked up from her sweet roll, eyebrow quirked at her brother.  What could he possible have to say? 

 

“It is my hope that what I have to say will stay between us, and no one else.” Torygg continued.  Lyrica noticed that he held Elisif’s hand now,  “It is with great pleasure that I tell you the most wonderful new. My fair Elisif has told me just today, that she is with child.”

 

“Congratulations, brother!” Aron was the first one to respond, he gave Torygg a pat on his shoulder.  “You as well, Ellie, I know you’ve wanted a child for so long now.”

 

The General and Amelia both gave their congratulations as well.  General Tullius assured, that until the time was right, the secret would be safe with both him and his niece.  

 

Lyrica could tell Aron was already plotting ways to spoil their new niece or nephew.  It was no surprise, Aron loved children, and did quite well with them.  Lyrica attributed that to the fact her brother was on the same maturity level as them.  She smiled, “I’m so excited for you both! When will you make an official announcement?”

 

“In about a month's time,” Elisif replied.  To Lyrica it almost seemed as if she was glowing with excitement, “I’ve only just found out today after all.” 

 

After Torygg and Elisif’s announcement, there was a celebratory round of drinks.  Followed by pleasant conversation.  Lyrica even brought out her lute and played a few songs.  A new Prince or Princess after so long was a blessing, even Lyrica knew that.  To think, she’d be an aunt.  She was overjoyed.  She was graduating from the Bard’s College tomorrow, would join the Legion in just a few months, and not long after that there would finally be a new little one in the Blue Palace. Nothing could possibly put a damper on her happiness now.


	2. The Mind of Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well... things don't look too good for the royal siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for this one guys.... also, I should mention, any Dovahzul(dragon language) translations will be at the end notes! That's for future chapters anyways... 
> 
> ALSO!!!! Yes, sometimes I will use dialogue from in game, but only when it's necessary!!

#  Chapter 2: The Mind of Madness

_ 9th Last Seed 4E 201 _

##  Aron 

Aron held the key to the Pelagius Wing in one hand, the other readying a candle light spell. He supposed it would be dark, no one had been in there since the time he and Lyrica broke in as children. A smile formed on his lip as he remembered that day, it was when they decided to put an unpickable lock on the door.  Even as a child Aron was fairly adept at the art.  He shrugged, that was the past, and he would not linger there.  One last look around to make sure no one was following, and he slipped in not bothering to ensure the door locked behind him.  Everyone who had business or lived in the Blue Palace knew better than to enter the Pelagius Wing.   

 

He lit the spell, an orb of light hovering around his head.  Looking around, Aron couldn’t see anything too out of the ordinary.  Tables and chairs lay in piles, years worth of dust settled atop them.  There were a few paintings on the walls mostly unaged from years of being in the darkness.  Aron would make sure to tell Falk to have them moved to a more used area of the Palace, no use in them collecting dust. 

 

He headed further down the hall, eyes opened for anything out of the ordinary.  Aron once more questioned his sanity.  “Why in the name of Nocturnal did I agree to do a task for a mad man?” He mumbled mostly to himself.  “Hello?! Is there anyone here?” 

 

_ Right, because if something dangerous was hiding, it clearly would answer you.  _ Aron shook his head. He continued to walk forward until suddenly he was no longer in the Pelagius wing. 

* * *

  
  


##  Lyrica

 

“Una, go fetch my new dress from the wardrobe, please.” Lyrica ordered. 

 

“As you command, Lady Swan-Song.” The serving girl replied taking a small bow and running to grab it. “Shall I lay it out on your bed?” 

 

“That would be much appreciated. I imagine I am almost ready to put it on.” Lyrica agreed as she sat in front of mirror carefully applying makeup to her eyes. She secretly wished she could also apply her usual warpaint, but Elisif had advised her against it earlier. Something about being more “lady like”, not that Lyrica cared much. Soon she'd be able to do it on a daily basis. 

 

Lyrica couldn't wait to join the Legion, to fight for a worthy cause. She couldn't wait to prove her skills on the field. Perhaps if the idiot Ulfric declared a full out war she could be a soldier on the front lines! Or perhaps they'd assign her as an archer, or even a scout! The sound of it all excited her. To be out exploring Tamriel! Sure she'd seen all the Holds of Skyrim, and a few capitals around the Empire. There was so much left to see Lyrica wanted to see it all.  She wanted to taste local favorites, and learn foreign songs. Maybe if she proved her value she'd even rise the ranks. Prove her worth, and perhaps they'd make her a Legate. 

 

She sighed, pushing those thoughts away for the moment. After all she had promised both her brothers she would wait to enlist until after her nineteenth birthday.  Though, perhaps she would wait for the birth of her niece or nephew.  For now she couldn't worry about it. No, tonight was her first official performance since graduating from the Bard’s College. At the Burning of King Olaf no less! Lyrica was nervous, not overtly, but still it was nothing she would admit to.  The girl took a deep breath and sighed, happy with how her eyes came out, the dark liner she used had helped to make her eyes appear larger. 

 

Meanwhile, Karolina put the finishing touches on her hair. Lyrica watched in the mirror as the other girl deftly twined three smaller braids on either side into one, she then pinned them back with small silver combs. The rest of Lyrica’s raven hair fell down to the small of her back in loose curls. Karolina preened her Lady’s hair ever so slightly before she let out a satisfied sigh. “I believe, mi’lady, that your hair is now perfect. Shall I put on your circlet?”

 

Lyrica looked over to the window. The shadows from outside were beginning to lengthen as the sun set. “Aye, it's about time for Master Viarmo to begin tonight's festivities. It would look bad if I were to be late.” 

 

Suddenly the door is pulled open, “Princess, I hate to interrupt your preparations for this evening’s activities, but the King has ordered you to stay in the Blue Palace.” A young guard leaned against the doorframe as he caught his breath. 

 

“Why?” She asked confused. “What’s happening?” 

 

“Princess, the Jarl of Windhelm is here, and he has brought his rebel soldiers with him.” He said. 

 

Lyrica’s gasped, “Ulfric Stormcloak? Here?” This wasn't good. 

 

“Aye, but you won't have to see him. Just stay put, and I will return when all is clear.” With that the guard ducked out leaving Lyrica with her entourage. 

 

She shook her head, standing and headed for a wardrobe. “I will not just stand by while my brother confronts that imbecile rebel Jarl.” 

 

“Princess,” Karolina began, “The King gave an order. Please, for your safety, stay here.” 

 

“Karolina, you know I won't sit idle.” Lyrica replied, already pulling out her armor. 

 

Being part of the royal family in Solitude, she had a set of armor nearly identical to that of the Haafingar guards.  However, instead of the heavier Imperial Legion boots and gauntlets , she wore fur. And instead of a helmet, a red hood went over her head. Quickly, she pulled them on, strapped on her sword and bow, and headed for the door. 

 

“Princess Lyrica, this isn't wise.” Karolina called behind her. Lyrica knew the girl would not try to physically stop her, for it would be an uneven fight. “Please, you and I both know Jarl Stormcloak is dangerous.” 

 

“Aye, which is why I must go. Torygg should not go to meet Ulfric alone.” She replied already slipping out the door,  “I promise I will be careful.” 

 

* * *

 

##  Amelia

 

“This is no drill. Solitude has been invaded. Everyone, to your stations!” Legate Rikke’s voice echoed through Castle Dour. 

 

As fast as she could, Amelia pulled on her helmet and bracers. She strapped on her sword and grabbed a shield from the rack. In less than a minute she was running to Legate Caesennius. “Sir, what are my orders?” 

 

“Private Tullius, your assignment is to ensure that High King’s family is safe within the Blue Palace. Go with Captain Aldis and his men.” 

 

“Yes, sir!” She saluted him and made her way towards the Royal Palace.  Soon she arrived by the front gate, and found Captain Aldis, who was yelling out orders.  Amelia ran up to him, taking a quick breath before giving a quick salute, “Private Tullius, reporting for duty, how may I serve Captain Aldis?” 

 

The nord considered for a moment, “Our biggest concern is making sure the High King’s family is safe.  Princess Lyrica is already accounted for, and has been confined to her chambers.” The two fell into pace, making their way into the Blue Palace, “Go, find Prince Aron, I have been informed he went into the Pelagius Wing this morning.  Assure his safety.” 

 

Amelia nodded, “yes, sir! I shall not fail.”  

 

Captain Aldis pointed her in the direction of the wing in question, stating that it was hard to miss.  Amelia gave a final salute before rushing off to find the unaccounted for Prince.  She prayed to the Divines that he was safe.  As of last night, Prince Aron was her only friend in Skyrim.  

* * *

 

##  Aron

He was in a garden?  _ How? _ Aron shook his head, taking in his surroundings once more. This couldn't be possible, but it was. 

 

He was in a garden, but where, he didn't know. Last he knew, the Pelagius wing didn't have a courtyard.  Before him was a table laden with what seemed to be fixings for a tea party.  Two men sat at the table, one in robes befit a noble,  the other in what Aron would consider a jester's outfit.  They appeared to be having a conversation, but Aron only caught the last few words.  

 

“...Well then, if you're going to be like that…” the jester began, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “Perhaps it's best I take my leave. A good day to you sir. I said good day!"

 

"Yes, yes, go. Leave me to my ceaseless responsibilities and burdens..." The other man said as he suddenly disappeared into nothingness.

 

Aron shook his head, others had thought him mad before, and now he was starting to feel as if they were right.  How had he ended up in a garden?  He was in the Pelagius wing, and he knew for a fact there was no courtyard in it.  What was happening to him?  Was this the work of the Divines? A powerful mage? A  _ Daedra _ ?   

 

Cautiously he stepped forward the table.  Something partially obscured his vision, and Aron looked up.  It was a  _ pom-pom _ , how?! Looking down, he noticed his clothes were also different, and he wore what was usually considered an upper class outfit, different than the one he’d put on this morning.  

 

Now the Jester looked at him eyes rolling, "How rude! Can't be bothered to host an old friend for a decade or two." 

 

Aron looked back, highly confused, but sure of one thing, he could not, not answer.  Whoever it was in front of him super powerful, and the more he stood observing him, the more Aron suspected who his host was. He cleared his throat, “Uh, sir, who was that who just sort of… poofed?” 

 

The Jester smiled, "Emperor Pelagius III.” Pelagius? The one for whom the wing Aron  _ was  _ in was named after? What sort of madness was this?! The man in front of him continued, “Now surely even you know about Pelagius' decree? On his deathbed - oh, and this was inspired - he forbade... death! That's right! Death! Outlawed!" The Jester now let out a full belly chuckle. 

 

“I, uh, I see…” Aron subconsciously backed up about a foot. It was starting to become crystal clear who he was dealing with.  Swallowing his growing hysteria he asked, “And where, pray tell, are we?” 

 

The man in front of him laughed, as if the answer was obvious, "Inside the mind of Pelagius, silly. Oh. Is it your first time?" At that comment the Jester winked. 

 

“And last I should hope…” Aron remarked, “I am here with a message.” 

 

"Really?" He asked excitedly, "Ooh, ooh, what kind of message? A song? A summons? Wait, I know! A death threat written on the back of an Argonian concubine! Those are my favorites." The man fell into hysterics once more. A few moments passed by before he calmed down enough to speak, “Well? Spit it out, mortal. I haven't got an eternity! Actually... I do. Little joke. But seriously. What's the message?"   
  
“I was asked to retrieve you from you, um, vacation?” Aron replied. It was very clear to him who the man in front of him was now. 

 

"Were you now? By whom?" he sat there in thought for a moment, "Wait! Don't tell me! I want to guess! Was it Molag? No, no. Little Tim, the toymaker's son? The ghost of King Lysandus? Or was it... Yes! Stanley, that talking grapefruit from Passwall.” Aron shook his head. “ Wrong on all accounts, aren't I?" the Prince now nodded his head, "Ha! No matter!  Honestly, I don't want to know.  Why ruin the surprise?  But more to the point.  Do you - tiny, puny, expendable little mortal - actually think you can convince me to leave? Because that's... crazy. You do realize who you're dealing with here?" 

 

“What I'm doing here is clearly making mistakes…” Aron huffed under his breath. 

 

Oh, no no no! No mistake at all. What you made was a choice. Granted, not a very wise choice, but these things happen. Ah, the folly of youth..." He smiled in remembrance, “You know, you remind me of myself at a young age. All I cared about was riding narwhals and sleeping in honeycombs and drinking babies' tears... Word of advice if you ride a Narwhal. Mind the pointy end." He winked, "Ah, but there I go, waxing poetic about my misspent youth. Now where were we? Ah yes. You're the mortal messenger. And I am...?” The Jester paused waiting for Aron’s response.  Aron, for once, found his words were failing him.  The man continued,  “Honestly. Have you any idea?"

 

"You're a madman." Aron replied, voice faltering. 

 

"Jolly good guess! But only half right. I'm a mad  _ god _ .  _ The _ Mad God, actually. It's a family title. Gets passed down from me to myself every few thousand years. Now you. You can call me Ann Marie, but only if you're partial to being flayed alive and having an angry immortal skip rope with your entrails.” The grin he now gave Aron was downright terrifying, “If not... Then call me Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness. Charmed."  

 

“Nocturnal preserve me…” Aron muttered.   _ Of course  _ it was another daedra, and not just  _ any  _ daedra either.  For years people warned him, it was only time until he would feel the Mad God’s pull.  Aron highly doubted his meeting on the street yesterday was any sort of coincidence.  Once more begging for courage, he spoke up, “My lord Sheogorath, would you possibly consider leaving then?” 

 

The Sithis shaped hole himself considered this for a moment before laughing, "Now that's the real question, isn't it? Because honestly, how much time off could a demented Daedra really need? So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to leave. That's right. I'm done. Holiday... complete. Time to return to the humdrum day-to-day. On one condition.” Of course there was a catch. “You have to find the way out first. Good luck with that."

 

“Well, yes… I don't quite get what I am to do here.” Aron answered. Though he was hopeful, Aron doubted that this was some simple mindless fetch something for someone task.  _ Great,  _ once more he would be some Daedric Prince’s play thing. With a great sigh, he looked The Mad God’s eyes, “What’s the catch.”

  
"Ha! I do love it when the mortals know they're being manipulated. Makes things infinitely more interesting."  Once more, that unsettling look crossed his face.  Sheogorath stood now, and walked towards him, "Care to take a look around? This is not, I dare say, the Solitude botanical gardens. Have you any idea where you are? Where you truly are?” He prodded Aron’s chest, “Welcome to the deceptively verdant mind of the Emperor Pelagius III. That's right! You're in the head of a dead, homicidally insane monarch."  __

 

_ Of course I am.   _ Though Aron knew this was entirely too real for comfort, part of him was still clinging to a small hope that this whole mess was just a nightmare.  However, it couldn’t possibly be a Nightmare.  That was Vaermina’s realm after all… Maybe he could fight his way out of this. 

 

"Now, I know what you're thinking. Can I still rely on my swords and spells and sneaking and all that nonsense?” Of course that’s what Aron thought, but Nocturnal had surely abandoned him this day, because the next words from The Mad God’s mouth clearly indicated that his weapons and skills would be of no use, “Sure, sure. Or, you could use... The Wabbajack! Huh? Huh? Didn't see that coming, did you?" 

 

The Mad God handed Aron the staff, then sat back down.  Aron just stared at the Wabbajack for a moment, before shaking his head.  Maybe he did not have his tools, but he still had his wit, which as of yet, had not failed him.  A new sense of determination now in his mind, the Prince took off towards one of the arches.  

* * *

  
  


##  Torygg

 

“Torygg, wait!” Lyrica’s voice pierced through the crowd.  Torygg turned, watching as she ran, to catch up with him. “Brother I would not let you speak with Ulfric Stormcloak alone.” 

 

“Lyrica, how?” Torygg questioned his sister, then sighed, realizing he likely did not want to know the answer.  It was likely she would not listen but he could try, “Lyrica, go back to the Palace, I will speak to Jarl Ulfric, perhaps we can solve this misunderstanding with words.” 

 

“Do not worry about me, brother, I can protect myself.” She replied, keeping pace with him now, “Besides, Ulfric should know that we, as the ruling family, do not support his foolish rebellion.”

 

“Fine, you may accompany me,” Torygg conceded.  Right now he did not have the time to argue with her, “but you will  _ not _ , and I repeat,  _ not,  _ say a single word unless I tell you to, alright?”

 

“As you wish, but do not expect me to stand by if things go south,” She replied, “I will be right at your side, Tor.” 

 

Together the two siblings walked down to Solitude’s main square together.  Torygg smiled despite the current  situation.  He was proud of his sister.  Perhaps it was wise she join him.  This could prove to be an educational experience.  Soon they arrived.  

 

The square was eerily silent.  Before Torygg, stood the Jarl of Windhelm himself, Ulfric Stormcloak.  It was well known the older warrior did not support his rule, and now, it seemed, he would challenge Torygg.  Next to the Jarl was his right hand man, Galmar Stone-Fist.  From the look on the man’s expression, Torygg could tell he was not the least impressed with him.  

 

The High King stopped, motioning for his guards to stand back.  To Lyrica he motioned to stand next to him.  He leaned in, whispering in her ear, “Stand at the ready, I cannot guarantee they will see reason. If things begin to go bad, run, no arguing Lyri.” 

 

Torygg cleared his throat, grounding himself firmly, “Jarl Ulfric, to what do I owe this visit? I must say, your presence here is unannounced.  Was it possible you came for the burning of King Olaf? I hear that only the best bards will be performing this evening.”

 

If the rebel Jarl could sense the sarcasm in his voice he did not let on. Ulfric shook his head, clearly agitated.  He considered it for a moment, “Typical Imperial supporter, you stand here, jesting as if everything is one large game.”  

 

“You still have not answered my question,” Torygg replied. “Come now, and state your business, before I have you escorted from Solitude.”

 

“Ah, so you will not stand on ceremonies then,” The elder Jarl began, moving closer, “As you wish,  _ High King _ ,” Torygg knew now that he was mocking him.  He stood still, not allowing Ulfric to intimidate him.  “I have come to challenge you to a duel, one on one.”

 

Torygg nodded, “and what are the stipulations?” 

 

Jarl Ulfric laughed at that, “I would of figured that would be obvious, if I win, you will step down as High King and allow a true Nord to rule in your place.”

 

_ Of course _ . Torygg should of known, “Fine, and if I were to win?”

 

“What do you think a fair prize would be?” Ulfric questioned.  It was clear to Torygg that he thought he had the upper hand, and did not think he could be defeated.  He had not even thought of a fair price should his king be victorious.  

 

Torygg considered it for a moment, “I believe, that a fair prize would be me stripping you of all titles and station.  If I win you will be replaced by Brunwulf Free-Winter.” 

 

“Fine.” The reply came after a moment, Ulfric laughed darkly, “If that is settled, then let's waste no more time on words.” 

 

“I agree,” Torygg said.  He looked over at his sister for a moment, “Perhaps, my dear Lyrica, you could give me a token of luck before we begin.”

 

Lyrica nodded, leaning in and hugging her brother firmly, “Do not let the old man intimidate you.  I know you can defeat him, I know it.” 

 

“Thank you for your kind words, little sister.  No matter the outcome, know this.  I love you, and am proud of who you’ve become.” He replied, kissing her forehead.  

 

“If you two are done, let’s get this business done and over with.” Galmar’s grizzled interjected. 

 

“You are right, Stone-Fist” Torygg replied, motioning for Lyrica to back up.  He pulled his blade, striding forward to meet Ulfric. “May the best man win.” 

* * *

 

##  Lyrica

_ Torygg was gone.  _

 

Lyrica rushed towards her brother, his last breath leaving his body, frantically, she tried a healing spell.  It was no use, Torygg was gone. Lyrica could not save him.  She wanted to cry, wanted to curse Ulfric Stormcloak’s name, but she did none of these things.  A terrifying calm came over her.  

 

Silently she stood, and pulled her sword loose from its sheath.  Lyrica stalked over to the traitor, he would pay dearly for his mistake.  What he had proposed was no fair battle, but a death sentence.  Lyrica should have known what Ulfric was planning.  He had challenged Torygg’s honor, then misused the ancient art of the Voice to get an upper hand. 

 

Lyrica had stood back in horror as he used his power to knock her brother to the ground, then ran him through. She had not had time to react, the events happening so quickly.  Around her, a large crowd had formed, closing in around her and Ulfric.  The rebel Jarl examined her for a moment, before outright laughing in her face, “So, this is the best Solitude has in defence of their King? A teenage girl, hardly big enough for the sword she carries.” 

 

“Ulfric Stormcloak, you mock me.” Lyrica said, mouth tight,  “You treasonous skeever! You’ve murdered my brother. Your High King!”

 

“Your brother died honorably.” The Jarl replied, grabbing her wrist, “It was he who accepted my challenge!”   

 

“And it was you who used an ancient art such as the Voice without honor!”  She said attempting to shake him free.  With her other hand she struck out, hoping her hand would hit something vital.  All it managed to do was irritate the large man in front of her.  

 

“Such spirit you possess, Princess.” Ulfric smirked, grabbing her other hand, “And here I thought you too were just another Imperial puppet.  No, there is a certain fire about you.” 

 

Fire… Fire! “You know what they say about fire, Jarl Ulfric, it burns!” She replied, willing a flames spell in her hand.  This allowed her a moment of reprieve as Ulfric let go.  Extinguishing the spell, Lyrica ran back, but before she could get enough distance, he was upon her once more.  

 

“Did you think you could escape me that quickly?” He said, holding her from behind, “I find your personality amusing.” One of his arms was now wrapped around her, near her face, the other holding tightly to her waist.  “In fact, Princess Lyrica, I can already see it.  Given enough training and persuasion, you could be one of my most valuable supporters, perhaps even my wife.”

 

“And why in the name of the Divines would I ever support you?  Let alone be your wife!” Lyrica said, already struggling to break the larger man’s grip.  Her legs were pinned.  It was useless, until she realized how close his arm was to her mouth.  Lyrica sighed, it was a dirty move, but her only one.  Biting down hard released the rebel Jarl’s grip on her once more.  

 

Lyrica attempted to escape once more, but this time was stopped by a Stormcloak soldier.  He did not wear a helmet, and Lyrica could see the expression on his face.  He seemed to be guilty.  Lyrica readied herself, ready to strike, when he spoke, “I apologize Princess.  I am only following orders.” 

 

“Wh…” Any question Lyrica may of had was suddenly cut off by the large thud of some object against the back of her head.  The last thing she remembered before she lost consciousness, was the ground rushing towards her, but someone gently catching her before it reached her.  

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, once more, thanks for reading!!! Have a good day!!!


	3. Solitude Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We begin the search for a lost princess...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's chapter 3 ... we have reached the beginning of the game!! Once more, I hope you enjoy it!

# Chapter 3: Solitude Shattered

## Aron

 

He'd been riding for two days straight, and still no sign of her. By the Nine, this was exhausting. _I swear if he's so much as touched a hair on her head, Ulfric will pay for it in more than just his blood._ Unlike the girls who populated the courts of Cyrodiil and High Rock whose biggest worry was their newest dress, Lyrica had a wooden sword in hand as soon as she learned to walk. No, she was a true Nord. Ulfric should know her father wouldn't let her be a helpless maiden. In fact, he was surprised Ulfric didn't want that. What with his whole “Skyrim belongs to the Nords”. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise him if she managed to escape his grip already. Maybe she already had and was at this moment on her way back to Solitude to assume the throne before he could even get to Windhelm.  Lyrica could defend herself, and Aron knew this quite well.

  


It was getting late, the sun sinking down behind the far horizon. Normally this would not bother him, he always had preferred the night. Things were far more interesting then. However he grew tired, as did his horse. Neither could go on like this. It was getting harder to stay in his saddle. Aron frowned, he would need to stop for the night.  

 

These past few days had been a whirlwind of nonsense. From his so called “meeting” in the Pelagius wing, ending in him returning with a staff and much more confusion than before.  Aron really did not want to think of that whole ordeal at the moment.  Not when he found himself suddenly in front of one worried Amelia Tullius.  She had told him what happened, how his brother was tricked into a duel, and how Jarl Ulfric had taken Lyrica as his captive.  Aron shook his head.  If he had been there with his siblings, perhaps things would be different.  However, that was the past, and now he could only atone for not being there by getting his sister out of whatever mess she was now in.  

 

Beneath him Frost was heaving. It would be best to stop for the night it seemed. Find a nice inn to rest his head and eat. The man consulted his surroundings. Nearest settlement was Rorikstead it seemed. Fair enough, Mralki was a good chef and he could check in on Erik. See how “slaying” was going for him. In spite of himself, Aron smiled.  With all the changing of the past three days, it was nice to know one thing was still certain. Erik the Slayer would still be doing good for those around him.  

 

“Come on boy, give me one more half hour and I'll make sure the stable hand feeds you all the carrots and apples you'd like.” He urged the stallion on. Encouraged by a treat Frost picked up the pace. “That's my horse!”

 

Soon enough Rorikstead was in view, and the man slowed his horse down to a lazy walk and jumped down holding the reigns. The man pulled his hood up, concealing his face. Now was not the time for everyone to recognize him. He lead the horse to the small carriage house next to Frostfruit Inn. “Hello? Is there a stable hand around?”

 

“Aron? Is that you?” A familiar voice called out walking to the door. Erik appeared in the candlelight a moment later. “Is your sister okay? An Imperial patrol was through just yesterday, one mentioned Jarl Stormcloak took her, and is it true? High King Torygg is dead?”

 

Many things had changed in the past few days. Erik of Rorikstead, however, had not. “Inquisitive as always it seems.” Aron replied leading his horse in, he would certainly owe his friend an explanation. “Aye. It's me, though I would not advertise my presence here. You have room for Frost?”

 

“Yes, of course.” Erik said taking the reigns from his friend, “You’re avoiding my questions.”

 

“No, I'll answer you, in due time. I'd prefer somewhere, more private.”  He said looking around cautiously. “Also, any reason you're out here instead of Lokir?”

 

“Lokir.” He said, venom in his voice. “Lokir is likely halfway to Hammerfell with Da’s horse.”

 

“Your stablehand stole your horse?” Aron asked sighing. “Here, this ought to cover his board and food.” He pulled out a decent sized coin purse and tossed it to Erik. _Ought to cover a whole new horse._ Aron was annoyed. _Lokir wasn't guild nor was this theft justified._ He shook his head and looked at Erik, “When you're relieved of your duties meet me inside friend, and we’ll talk.”

 

“Aron I can't possibly accept this much coin…”

 

With a shrug he walked off leaving an in awe Erik in his wake, “Oh,” he added with a wicked smile, “and don't forget the carrots. He loves those.”

* * *

 

_17th Last Seed 4e 201_

## Lyrica

  
_Where am I?_ She wondered, eyes opening. A wagon? She realized noting the hard, wooden seat beneath her. She’d likely have splinters in her ass had she not been wearing armor.  But why is he here? And why is he tied up? By the Gods this couldn't be good…   
  
“You're finally awake.” A familiar voice asked cutting her thoughts short. Ralph? No, his name was Ralof. She nodded looking at him. “While you were out we ran into an Imperial ambush. Same as that horse thief.”   
  
An Imperial ambush?  Someone must have realized she had been taken as the bastard left.  Did they know she was with them?  Clearly not if she was in a cart with prisoners.  Must be why there was a bandage around her mouth and head. In a full set of this armor she'd look just like any other soldier in his rebellion, albeit an injured one.  Of course the cloth bindings were more to keep Lyrica from talking Ulfric’s head off.     
  
“Damn you Stormcloaks!” A new voice chimed in, prompting her to look in his direction. He was in a set of ragged clothing. Must have been desperate if he resorted to stealing a horse. “Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now! I don't belong here, it's you divines damned Stormcloak they want.” His voice was seething in anger. She couldn't blame him. She didn't belong here either.   
  
“We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.” Ralof replied, agitation in his voice. He gazed at her now, a look of sorrow in his eyes. Looking at the girl, he frowned.  She knew it was not his fault, and of the people she was in this cart with, he was the one she felt for most.     
  
“Shut up back there!” An imperial soldier called from the driver's seat.   
  
She began to speak, only to be muffled by the gag in her mouth.  If only she could move it enough to speak clearly.  Fate was not working in her favor today. I am going to die. This is how it ends, at least my brother will be there to greet me.  Lyrica would not admit it, but she was terrified. She didn’t belong here.

  
“And what's wrong with him?” The horse thief asked nodding towards the himself bastard. If she could laugh, she would right now.  Of all the people here, he was the one whose death she could not wait for. If this was to be an execution, she prayed she’d see him die. A death such as that is befitting a traitor such as him.   
  
“Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.” Ralof replied with reverence. He was a nice boy and all, but she still groaned. Ulfric would never be High King if she had any say.   
  
“Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? Leader of the rebellion, but if they've captured you…” He trailed off in terror. “Oh gods, where are they taking us?”   
  
Ralof looked at him and replied calmly, “I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits.” Strange, he was ready to die. Though, Lyrica guessed it really shouldn't surprise her. Was that what it meant to be a soldier? Ready to die at any moment? If that was the case she was not. Not now. Not yet.  If she made it out of here alive, she would perhaps reconsider military service.  There was still too much to be done. She'd made a promise to her brother.   
  
“No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening.” The horse thief continued in a clear panic. Lyrica wished she could speak now. She would tell the man to shut his mouth.  It was unfortunately what was happening and they all needed to come to terms with it. If he feared the consequences so much, he should not have committed the crime.   
  
Beyond the front of the carriage she could see the gates of a small town coming into view. Wherever their destination, they'd be there soon. Gods willing she could get herself out of this, though being gagged certainly was not going to help her case. If she could only speak, this could all be taken care of.  She truly had no desire to die today. If the gods will it I shall accept my death. Or at least she told herself that. Lyrica wasn't ready to die, but in the end, her life was in the hands of the executioners.   
  
“Hey,” Ralof spoke again, clearly trying to calm the horse thief’s nerves.  If he were not a rebel soldier she could see him working in the courts. “What village are you from, horse thief?”   
  
“Why do you care?” He asked incredulously. Such a trivial matter was the furthest thing from his mind.  They were all going to die anyways.   
  
“A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.” Ralof replied. And perhaps he was right.  No one should die alone, and perhaps thinking of family brought them close to you in death. Maybe her brother would be there to greet here at the doors of Shor’s great hall.   
  
Lyrica could agree on that at least, thinking of her family was comforting in some ways. Perhaps she had not grown up in the most conventional places, but her family was still loving. She thought of her two older brothers, the eldest now dead, her other likely out looking for her at this very moment. She thought of her parents that she had lost at a rather young age. Of her horse she would sorely miss. Especially, she would miss Aron. Her older brother was the only close family she had left in Skyrim.  By the nine she hoped someone has the sense to remove the linen wrappings  and recognizes her.   
  
After a moment the horse thief replied, “Rorikstead, I'm… I'm from Rorikstead.”   
  
By then they had reached the gates and were escorted under and through by two more Imperial soldiers. She turned her head and saw a few figures sitting up on horses. A moment later she realized who they were. _If they're here, I can be in quite a bit less danger. Unless I cannot make them see who I am_ .     
  
“General Tullius, sir the headsman is waiting!” A soldier's voice announced.   
  
“Good, let's get this over with.” The general replied motioning the carts towards the training yard. By his side, a   
  
“Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me!” The horse thief’s plea for help rang out. She couldn't help but pity for him. Sad a Nord would plead for their life. Take it like a true Nord. The girl thought to herself. Know the consequences of your actions.   
  
“Look at him,” Ralof sneered at the general, “General Tullius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him.” Immediately the girl knew she was right and knew the other two for who they were. Private Amelia Tullius, niece and member of the general's personal guard.   The other was First Emissary Elenween, head of the Thalmor stationed here. She rolled her eyes at that. Damned Dominion always sticking their nose where it doesn't belong. “I bet they had something to do with this.” The girl was apt to agree with him, she held no love for the Thalmor herself. However if they freed her from these binds, she would owe them her thanks.   
  
“This is Helgen,” he continued. She nodded listening him. “I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in…” Ralof looked around and then continued. “Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”   
  
She wanted to say. They still should, you're not wrong not trusting the Thalmor, but the empire isn't our enemy. Unfortunately her mouth was still gagged so she sat in silence. Resigned to settle in until someone had the brains to remove the bandages, she looked around.   
  
“Who are they, da? Where are they going?” A young boy asked from where he was sitting on what she presumed was his family's porch.   
  
“You need to go inside, little cub.” His father replied gently nudging the boy to his feet.   
  
“Why?” He asked confused. “I want to watch the soldiers!”   
  
“Inside the house. Now.” The boy's father said ending the conversation.   
  
“Yes, papa…” The boy replied disappointed, but did as he was told going through the door.   
  
Suddenly the carriage jolted to a stop. The girl gritted her teeth. So this will be my end.   
  
“Get the prisoners out of the carts. Move it!” An authoritative voice called out. She looked over noticing a woman in intricate armor. Must be a captain from the looks of it. Either way she held rank over the foot soldiers.   
  
“Why are we stopping?” The horse thief asked dumbfounded. Gee. I don't know. The horses needed to take a piss. Why does it look we stopped?!  Lyrica though, eyes rolling nearly to the back of her head.  In front of her she could see a block set up, an executioner not far behind it.   
  
“Why do you think? End of the line.” Ralof replied getting to his feet. “Let's go, shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us.”   
  
“No! Wait! I'm not a rebel!” He yammered on begging for freedom. _As if that will save you. You're still a criminal, thief._ She rolled her eyes and got as quickly as she could.   
  
“Face your death with some courage, thief.” Ralof sighed doing what he could to help her up. She nodded in thanks. He got as close as he could to her and whispered in her ear. “I'm sorry that you're end will be here, I'll try to get you out of this.”     
  
She smiled through the gag. Ralof was not a bad man, just misguided in his choices. Had fate not lead them here, she could have convinced him against this rebellion.   
  
“You've got to tell them! I wasn't with you!” The horse thief said looking back at Ralof. “This is a   
mistake!”   
  
Ralof shook his head stepping down off the wagon. She put her head down following after him. If he really can get her out of this she'd find a way to reward him. Somehow…   
  
In front of them stood the captain, a soldier next to her. She called out another instruction, “Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time.”   
  
Besides her Ralof groaned. “Empire loves their damn lists.”   
  
Next to the captain the soldier opened a book, “Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.”   
  
In front of her Ulfric gave a curt nod, unable to speak thanks to the gag placed on his own mouth. Serves him right. Damned traitor. She thought watching the bastard head towards the block. Besides her Ralof spoke, “It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!” _Oh, Ralof, why are you so misguided?_

 

The Imperial soldier waited a moment and then spoke again, “Ralof of Riverwood.” She couldn't help but hear the ting of regret in the soldier’s voice. Did he know him somehow? Were they friends? The rest of her thoughts are cut off as he called out another, “Lokir of Rorikstead.”   
  
The horse thief... “No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!” Bees for a brain that one… she thought as he ran off. Brilliant. Run off… That'll clearly save your life.   
  
The captain yelled at him, “Halt!” But it had no effect on Lokir. He continued to run.   
  
“You're not going to kill me!” He replied still running.   
  
The captain turned to her men and yelled out, “Archers!” And as if a well oiled dwarven mechanism they sprung into action shooting him squarely in the chest, “Anyone else feel like   
running?”   
  
Lyrica sighed. He should've taken his death like a true Nord. She looked forward, the last person on the cart. She looked towards the soldier waiting for him to speak, he looked at her, then at the list, “Wait, you there. Step forward. Who are you?”   
  
The girl stood tall and strong as she strode forward as carefree as she could. Now was not the time to play weak.  Divines please, I'm unafraid to die, but I do not deserve this traitor's death. She tried to speak, but the gag turned it all to mumbles.   
  
“Prisoner! Speak at once.” The captain yelled out ordering her. Stupid woman, you think I'm not?! If only they could hear her, she'd be free already.   
  
From behind her, as if ordered by Akatosh himself Ralof called out, “Take off her bandages. She's been gagged!”   
  
The imperial captain glared at him, “Shut up Stormcloak scum!”   
  
She turned to look at him wish she could thank the rebel soldier. He looked furious trying to save her from the block. Why does he want to save me?   
  
Ralof ignored her continuing, “For the love of the Nine Hadvar, if ever there was a time to listen to me. _This is it!_ ”   
  
The soldier, Hadvar, looked between the captain and Ralof for a moment before placing the book on the ground and walking over to her. She turned, looking up, and tensed as he reached forward and pulled off the bandages. “I don't understand… Why is she gagged?”   
  
“Remove the gag, skeever brain!” Ralof replied, the imperial captain glaring daggers at him. Two guards closed in ready to hold him back. Again he ignored her actions and continued, “Trust me. She doesn't belong here.”   
  
Perhaps he was being brave because Ulfric could no longer punish him?  He was sentenced to death, what else did he have to lose? Hadvar nodded pulling gently to remove it, “Alright miss, who are you? And why is it so important we let you go?”   
  
She took a deep breath trying not to scream, not yet. For a moment she closed her eyes trying to gather her thoughts. Gods knew she had a lot to say. “By the Divines! Are all of you so blind?! I'm aware that I'm in this ridiculous armor and covered in dirt, but is it really that hard not to recognize me?! I get it my hair's short now, all Ulfric’s damned fault by the way, but the color has not changed. My eyes have not changed either!” She was shaking with anger now. This was beyond her understanding. Most everyone in Skyrim knew what she looked like. Maybe she was being harsh, but anyone in her position would be too. “Untie me now!”   
  
“Whoa, whoa calm down. If this is really just a misunderstanding. State your name prisoner.” Hadvar replied putting his hands on her shoulders. He looked her in the eyes a silent plea telling her to stop. Of all the people there, he seemed genuinely concerned for the girl who didn't seem to belong. “Please….”   
  
The captain stalked closer, “Girl cut your shit or you'll be sent to the block regardless of who you are. You could be the damned high queen and that attitude would not save you.”   
  
She looked at her, a glare growing in her features, “Fine.” If only she knew. She breathed in again, trying to calm down. Maybe now wasn’t the time to act brash. Her words came out in a mumble, agitation mixing into her voice.     
  
“Lass, if you're serious, then speak up. I cannot help you if I do not know who you are.” Hadvar replied opening the book back up. He seemed to be the only imperial on her side at the moment.   
  
She huffed before standing up straight and bracing herself, “I am Lyrica of Solitude!” Looking around she noticed that everyone near her had gone quiet. Maybe that was too much.  Oh well, maybe now someone would treat her properly.   
  
Suddenly, as if in recognition, Hadvar again dropped the book and reached for his knife to cut her free, “By the Gods, it can't be. Lyrica? Princess of Solitude?”   
  
The captain look at him incredulously, “You really think she's the Princess? She's wearing Ulfric's colors.”   
  
“Aye, but the princess was captured by Ulfric when he left Solitude.” Hadvar replied, in defiance of his superior. Lyrica liked that. The woman reminded her of a hagraven and should have been put in her place ages ago. No doubt her status as captain only inflated her ego.   
  
“She was, but reports state that Galmar Stone-fist split from the traitor and made for Windhelm. That he was taking the princess back with him.” She said. “Soldier, stand down!”   
  
Lyrica had had it now. “By the Divines cut my hands free or you will feel my wrath.” Her voice took on a near feral quality now. She looked up at the woman, not in the least intimidated. Even tied up she knew she could at the least knock her down, “Release. Me. Now.”   
  
She knew she was causing a scene. She knew it would catch everyone's attention. Hopefully someone higher ranked will notice. This captain clearly isn't going to help me. She prayed they would notice. Lyrica was not going to go down without a fight. “I said release me now.” Where was the General when she needed him?!   
  
“Captain stand down!” General Tullius said as if divine sent him. He walked over, hand on his sword. “Look up at me girl.” He ordered examining her.   
  
“General.  You know who I am. Now order your men to release me!” Lyrica snapped sounding more feral than she already had. Her voice had the authority of a royal this time.   
  
The general recognized her and let go of his sword and turned to Hadvar, “Men, you heard her, someone cut her binds. This is Lyrica of Solitude, Princess of Skyrim and future Jarl of Solitude. The attitude is enough to convince me. Your family will be glad to see you alive.” Tullius announced with a small chuckle looking her over. “I imagine you put up quite a fight princess, you look worn out,” He remarked noting the copious amount of dirt covering her face, “That scar is new as well.”   
  
Lyrica nodded as Hadvar moved to cut her loose, “They were not expecting a warrior.” She replied rubbing her wrists. “They believed my upbringing to be like the ladies in High Rock and Cyrodiil, but I'm a Nord and we teach both our boys and girls to fight. No offense to your country of course. Ulfric should know how my father raised me.” She stretched finally free if her binds. “Enough with pleasantries, we can speak later. General, I believe there's an execution to be held?”   
  
The general nodded and walked back to where he was going to confront Ulfric. “As you were men, before the sun rises further into the sky.”   
  
Lyrica stretched, getting a feel for having her hands free once more. She followed after him throwing off the cuirass that bore Ulfric’s colors. “About time I took that damned filth off! Men, I am pardoning Ralof of Riverwood, for now I would like him transferred to the prison in Solitude.” She gave him a slight smile as she walked past him. He smiled back looking at his feet.  “It's the least I can do…”   
  
The soldiers knew it was unwise to disobey her and dragged Ralof backwards.  She’d speak with him later. Lyrica stalked up to Ulfric, “I believe I'm the one with the last laugh Ulfric. Now face your death like a true Nord.”   
  
General Tullius nodded from where he stood besides her, “Ulfric Stormcloak, some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like The Voice to murder his King and usurp his   
throne.”   
  
“Yes, some of us are civilized and know how to hold a normal conversation.” Lyrica added glaring at Ulfric, “They certainly don't cut off someone's hair because they can't fit a helmet over it!” She growled reaching back to tousle her less than shoulder length mop of ebony hair.   
  
He looks her in the eyes, an unsettling expression playing across his features. Lyrica could almost tell what he was thinking, and if not for her fear of him shouting, she'd undo his gag so that the world could hear his dirty thoughts aloud.  As it was  Lyrica could hear the muffled rambling from under the piece of cloth.   
  
“Can't shout with a mouth gag, eh Ulfric?” She smirked. “Gags tend to impeded one's speech. You would know that, though, wouldn’t you?”   
  
“You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace.” General Tullius continued leading Lyrica away from her captor before she could do anything too rash. “Princess, perhaps you shouldn't anger him too much. He's already getting the death he deserves.”   
  
“General, he goes last. I want him to witness how badly he's let down his men.” She said allowing him to escort her over to where they were conducting the execution. He nodded agreeing with her. Lyrica got a feeling the general had a personal thing with Ulfric himself. Probably because Ulfric himself had served in the legion back in his day.  Most noble born children do, for a time at least.  She, herself  was supposed to start training in the near future. It seemed that was no longer likely now.  Not with the throne in Solitude bearing her name.   
  
In the distance a roar rang out. It was deafening, echoing through the clearing. _What in the name of Talos is that?_ It was far too loud for a bear or sabercat.  Around them the walls of the fort shook and Lyrica could feel the ground quake beneath.   
  
“What was that?” Hadvar exclaims looking around.   
  
“It's nothing, carry on.” The General replied brushing it off. Lyrica, however, was not so sure.   
  
“Yes, General Tullius, sir!” The captain answers then motions towards a priestess, “Give them their last rites.”

The priestess nods, putting her hands in the air to invoke the divines, “As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved…”  
  
But the rest of her rites were cut off by an errant Stormcloak, “Come on, I haven't got all morning. My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?”   
  
Lyrica watched as a soldier pushed him down. A moment and axe swing later the man was dead. Executed, not unlike my brother. She thought watching. Around her Stormcloak and Imperial supporters alike made noise. The princess, however, was more distracted by a second roar that tore through the yard. This time it was louder.   
  
From besides here Hadvar spoke, “There it is again. Did you hear that?”   
  
Lyrica nodded, “Aye, but how come no one's reacting? We can be in serious danger? Why aren’t they worried?”   
  
“I believe that they’re more concerned about this execution. If it happens again, run Princess. Your safety is more important than this execution.” Hadvar replied standing protectively close to her.     
  
She nodded just as a third roar rang out. It was closer still, and suddenly the ground shook more violently. Lyrica fell to her knees in terror. Besides her General Tullius exclaimed, “What in Oblivion is that?”   
  
“Sentries, what do you see?” The Captain ordered.   
  
Lyrica could only look up in shock, “Dragon!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry... the cliffhanger is a little necessary, next chapter.... we will check in with Amelia... and meet a new character, maybe! Anyhow, have a good day guys!!! Hopefully chapter 4 will be out soon!


	4. Unbound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, anyways... here's chapter 4

Chapter 4: Unbound

Lyrica

The next few moments both flashed by and felt as if they were an eternity. The princess remembered vague impressions of orders “get the townspeople to safety.” And “kill it!” However she remained motionless. Around her soldiers moved into action and everyone else into chaos. She remembered Hadvar trying to reach for her but being separated by a flying rock. 

Lyrica stared at the beast and it almost seemed as if it was staring back. What do you want with me? She was a Nord, but even a sensible Nord knew when they've met their match. She scrambled to her feet, unsure of her surroundings.

“Princess! Follow my voice,” Ralof called through the smoke to her, “Come on, the Gods won't give us another chance!” 

Lyrica ran towards the sound of his voice, colliding against his chest, “By the Nine what's going on?!” She looked up at him in panic. Realizing he was still in bonds she tore at them, “I can't get them loose.” 

“Princess, now is not the time. Quick. Into that tower!” He ordered leading her towards a now open door. 

Now wasn’t the time to question authority, safety is more important. She thought, though Lyrica admitted to herself, “Now’s not the time to argue over who's in charge.” 

Soon the two reached the tower and Ralof pushed her through the doorway. She fell to her knees and prayed he was right behind her. The room was full of Stormcloaks currently getting each other out of their binds. He’s betrayed me, hasn't he? With a sigh she rose to her feet and looked around. Of course, just behind the door stood Ulfric himself. Lyrica kept her distance knowing she was already defeated. So many of them and only one of her. 

Ralof looked her in the eyes as his hands were cut loose, “Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Can the legends be true?” He was clearly concerned. Once he was free of his bindings he came and stood next to Lyrica, as he knew it would make her feel a little more secure. 

“Legends don't burn down villages. We need to move, now!” The Jarl ordered now, unfortunately, free of his gag. For once Lyrica completely agreed with him, but sadly she had no clue as to how to escape it. The door behind them had been blocked by a falling stone mere moments after she and Ralof had made it through. 

Ralof looked at her then up the stairs, “Up through the tower, let's go!” Then he grabbed Lyrica's hand and practically dragged her behind him. Clearly he was unconcerned over his fellow brothers’ condition. Perhaps he thought he owed her? For sparing his life? However right now wasn't the time to think about that. Now was the time to get to safety. 

Soon they were near the top where two more Stormcloaks stood trying to move debris out of the way, “We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the way!” One of them yelled out. Ralof grunted in affirmative waiting as patiently as he could. 

Suddenly the black dragon appeared again, this time tearing through the wall. The two Stormcloaks were pushed back, likely crushed under the now broken wall. Ralof pushed her down so they were pressed against the wall a few steps down. There was a great roar and Lyrica felt warmth. The beast was breathing fire! 

She waited a few moments before looking up. Ralof tried pulling her back, but Lyrica was sure the dragon was gone for the moment being, “Come on, before it comes back!” 

He looked at her as if she was crazy before also getting up. They ran to the now gaping hole in the tower. Ralof surveyed the area before pointing, “See the inn on the other side?” She nodded and he continued, “Jump through the roof and keep going!” 

“You'll be behind me right?” Lyrica asked bracing herself to jump. If she judged the distance wrong she'd fall to her death. 

“Go! You may not get another chance. I’ll follow when I can!” He replied motioning for her to go.

“Alright… Please be safe!” She replied running and jumping at the very last moment. For a moment she was in the air before falling onto a half destroyed bed. Lyrica took a moment to make sure she hadn't broken anything. Confident she was mostly whole, she stood and looked around. The inn was on fire. Damned it all. It seriously was not her day. Week for that matter. 

Finding a clear path to a set of stairs she ran her pants getting snagged on a broken log. She tore at it letting the pant leg tear off from the knee down. Behind her a beam crashed down. “Right, getting out of here now!” She yelped taking the stairs two at a time and bursting out a hole in one of the walls. 

“Princess?! You're still alive!” Hadvar exclaimed. Lyrica was glad to run into him. From the looks of it he was trying to help out two citizens. She ran towards him dodging falling rocks as she made her way, “Keep close to me if you want stay that way.” 

“As you say, but what of them?” She asked holding onto one of his arms, “I won't be the reason an innocent person dies.”

He considered it for a moment, “Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense!” 

“On your orders! Divines guide you, Hadvar!” He replied pulling the boy towards safety. 

Hadvar wasn't listening to him anymore. He was too focused on getting Lyrica to safety. Again the dragon appeared landing near them, “Stay close to the wall!” He asserted pushing her and himself up against it. 

“By the Divines it seems everyone wants to push me around today.” Lyrica remarked trying to keep the mood light. Hadvar gave her a “this isn't a joke” look. “Right, sorry, bad timing…”

“It's okay. Quickly follow me!” He ordered pulling her through a maze of now destroyed and burning buildings. They had to stop and double back a few times. Some because of timber falling down. Others because fire or an errant piece of rock fell in front of them. It seemed as if it took hours, but must has only been moments before they were in an open area again. 

Before them General Tullius stood barking out orders. Hadvar lead her up to him. He took a moment before addressing them both, “Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we’re leaving! Keep the princess safe!” Hadvar nodded leading Lyrica towards the keep. Behind them Lyrica heard one last order from the general, “Amelia, with me! I do not wish to write home to your father so soon after your assignment.” 

“It's you and me, princess. Stay close!” Hadvar stated as he lead them closer. 

Lyrica smiled for a moment before refocusing. She ran behind Hadvar, feet near bleeding at this moment. Why did she decided to defy Ulfric just then?! As they approved the keep she saw a blond figure clad in blue approach from the other direction, “Ralof!” She called out running towards him.

Behind her Hadvar called out as well, “Ralof, you damned traitor! Out of the way!” 

Finally the three of them were together. Ralof spoke, “We’re escaping, Hadvar” he put a hand on Lyrica's wrist. “You're not stopping us this time!” 

What was between this two? Now was not the time for their petty squabbles, “Dibella’s tits, would you both shut up! With me, both of you! To the keep, it's not safe out here!” Lyrica sighed grabbing both of them by the arm and pulled them through the doors of the keep. 

As the door opened she hear the dragon roar s final time, this time it seemed to speak. A language she was unfamiliar with, “Hin sil fen nahkip bahloki!” 

 

Amelia

 

She couldn’t move. It was if she’d been it with a paralysis spell. Around her it was if all Oblivion had broken out. A dragon, large as at least three mammoths, and dark as night, was currently flying around destroying the village of Helgen. What in the name of the Eight was going on? What was supposed to be an execution was turning into a full on massacre. Her training had taught her how to deal with a great many dire situations, but a dragon wasn’t one of them! 

“Amelia, with me! I do not wish to write home to your father so soon after your assignment.” Her uncle’s voice through her thoughts, and snapping her back into action. 

She took a deep breath, “Yes, sir! What are my orders General Tullius, sir?”

“Follow me, to our horses, the others have already been ordered to evacuate.” He said grabbing her by the wrist and leading her through the wreckage that Helgen was becoming. 

“We aren’t going to fight?” She asked, forgetting for a moment her uncle was her superior. 

“We can’t possibly defeat a dragon, we don’t have enough men for that!” He replied, pulling her against a wall. Mere seconds later, where they were standing a gout of flames burned brightly. “There’s no time to argue. I can see our horses from here. Go, now!” 

Using as much speed as she could muster, Amelia ran, practically jumping into her saddle. She looked behind to see the General similarly mounting his own steed. 

Soon uncle and niece were off, traveling as far from Helgen as possible. Amelia knew there were other troops behind them, scattering, so the dragon didn’t follow one large mass. They would regroup later. Once at a safe distance they stopped, waiting to see who else would join them. Ahead of them were the Thalmor Ambassador and her guards, looking unscated. Suspicious, but Amelia didn’t dwell on it. 

“General, what now?” She asked, looking to her uncle for orders. 

“Now? I will head to the closest camp, and regroup with the rest of the legion.” He replied, taking a drink from his waterskin. “I must be there to lead my men. However, I have a task for you.”  
She nods, reaching for her own waterskin, “I await my orders.”

“Amelia, ride for Solitude. Inform Legate Rikke of what has happened here in Helgen. Tell her to begin all necessary precautions.”

“Yes, sir!” She saluted her uncle. “I leave immediately.” 

He saluted her back, “Divines watch over you, now go!” 

 

Lyrica

“We're safe.” She announced pushing the door closed behind them, “for now anyways.” 

Behind the door Lyrica could still hear the screams of citizens and soldiers alike. All fighting for their lives. In front of her the two men that had helped her this far were staring each other down like two feral wolves. Great now I need to calm them down. “So boys,” she began, “care to explain why you two want to maul one another to death?” 

“Princess, with all due respect, this matter is personal.” Hadvar replied, gritting his teeth. 

“No, she’s got a right to know,” Ralof began, surprisingly calm. “So, Hadvar, why did you join the legion?” 

Hadvar sighed, body slowly untensing, “You know as well as anyone else in Riverwood. My father was a legionnaire, and his father before him. I never considered doing anything else.” 

Lyrica nodded, “My uncle was in the legion as well, on the day of my twentieth birthday I too would have taken the oath.”

“Princess, you were going to join them? Even though they ban Talos worship?” Ralof asked surprised. 

“I have my reasons,” she replied looking around the room. Ahead of her there were a couple of swords on a weapon rack. Stalking across she grabbed one weighing it in her hand. Now was not the time to discuss this. 

Hadvar turned to look at Ralof again, “Alright, you've got my answer. Tell me, why did you join the Stormcloaks?” He asked following Lyrica, and giving Ralof a moment to think, “Princess, that chest should have a few bits of armor. I'll do my best to protect you, but better safe than sorry.” 

“You know I can take care of myself, right?” She asked putting the sword down for a moment and walking over to the chest. Hadvar opened it, revealing a set of legion armor. Light by the looks of it. It would do for now. In any case she pulled it on and strapped the sword to her hip. “So, Ralof, have you got an answer yet?” 

The blond nodded, “Aye, I do. I joined the Stormcloaks because I am a true Nord. I joined to avenge my cousin. He was taken by the Thalmor one night, likely they found signs he worshipped Talos. Wasn't long until I found myself under Ulfric's banner.” Lyrica could see the hurt in his eyes, “I don't see how you'd understand. Both of you are imperial supporters. Princess you saved me, but why?” 

Lyrica blinked, stunned, “Because you kept me from the majority of Ulfric's wrath. Yes, I support the Empire, and the Empire are allied with the Thalmor, but don't think they're friends.” This conversation was not going how she wanted it to. “Now is not the time for this. Both of you, I consider friends as of today. Friends I would not like to see dead. We must get out of here. When we get out I will answer any questions either of you have.” 

Both men looked at her, partially shocked. Hadvar was the first to react, ever the soldier, “Yes ma'am. This way, we'll head down and out through an old exit. Created in case of emergencies. I suppose this qualifies.” 

Lyrica smiled pleased she could get them to cooperate. If only for now. Grabbing the other sword off the wall she tossed it to Ralof, “you heard the man, this way. Let's go while we still can.” 

“Alright, as the princess wishes.” Ralof replied attaching it to his hip. “Lead on Hadvar, and see to it you don't get us lost.” 

“It was one time Ralof, and it was not my fault a bear chased us half way across the lake.” His reply came as he lead them through a doorway towards a circular room. She watched as the two men shared a knowing glance. Clearly another friendship this damned war tore apart. Ahead Lyrica could hear talking, someone was already there. “Stormcloaks, maybe Ralof can can reason with them.” 

Aforementioned man stepped forward, “I'll see what I can do, but no promises. Keep your hands on your blades just incase. They'll likely see me as a traitor.” His voice was grim no doubt unpleased. 

“Well I'm sorry I wanted you spared, and now you have to be seen with two people in Legion armor.” She replied sarcasm seeping in every word, “Now please, go talk to them. We'll be right behind you.” 

Ahead of them Hadvar lowered the door allowing Ralof to walk through. Lyrica followed on his heels ready incase trouble followed. In front of them stood three Stormcloak warriors, looking down on a fourth fallen brother. Ralof looked down, sorrow in his eyes, “Gunjar… We trained together. May Talos guide him to Sovngarde.” 

The other Stormcloaks looked up at him, spiteful, one spoke for them, “Ralof, you traitor! How could you help these imperials?!” 

“There's a dragon outside and you feel the need to argue over a damned civil war?” He asked hand reaching for his blade. 

Another, a woman, replied, “Brother in arms? You're a turncoat! You'll die.” 

Hadvar and Lyrica exchanged a look before unsheathing their swords, this battle would not be won with words alone. The Stormcloaks drew their weapons as well rushing towards the two nords in Imperial Armor. Both groups ran at each other ready to take blood. 

She let out a war cry, allowing years of training with her brothers to prove its worth. Steel clattered against steel as her sword meet the Stormcloak’s war axe. Lyrica would not be bested. Around her she heard steel and leather clashing and words being exchanged. Now was not the time to be distracted and she allowed herself to focus only on her opponent. She dodged and blocked swings at her. Occasionally Lyrica managed to get in a few slashes of her own. Finally the two combatants were locked for a moment before she was able to knock his weapon from his hands. “May the daedra take you!” With a final savage move she stabbed him straight through the heart. 

By now she was breathing heavily, eyes wide, a few pieces of hair hanging in her face. Never before had she killed another person. Beasts? Of course, countless times had her brothers taken her out on the hunt. That was never close up. Always with a bow. 

The fighting around her had ceased. Ralof and Hadvar stood nearby. Both breathing heavily from exertion. Realizing it was over Ralof lowered his weapon, “That felt, wrong. I'm sorry it came to this brothers in arm.” 

Hadvar nodded, displeasure in his eyes as well, “I didn't like it much either, killing our own people…” He stopped looking over at Lyrica, “Princess, are you alright?” 

She considered it for a moment, “Alright? Am I alright?” Lyrica laughed sheathing her sword. “Four days ago I had little to worry about. I was a royal. My biggest issue was what dress I'd be forced to wear to court. Now? I just killed a man. I've never killed a person before. I was kidnapped by the man who killed my brother. And on top of it all off. THERE'S A DIVINES DAMNED DRAGON OUTSIDE TRYING TO KILL US ALL!!!”

She didn't mean to scream, or get cross. Lyrica never meant to frighten her companions, but unfortunately that's effect her little speech had on them. Ralof cringed looking at her. Hadvar on the other hand, his jaw dropped nearly to the floor. She blushes looking at her feet. “Sorry,” she mumbles, “I didn't mean to snap like that… It's well, it's been a long few days. Come on, Hadvar? Please lead on…” 

They stumbled across a torture room. All three showed distaste. “Why do you Imperial’s need a torture room?” Ralof asked. 

“I wish I knew, also wish we didn't have them.” Hadvar had tried reasoning with the torturer and his apprentice. Trying to make them see reason and escape with them. Alas they were too stubborn. 

Lyrica was not paying attention too well, a book had caught her eyes. ‘The Book of the Dragonborn’. Curious she grabbed it, and the pack it was near. She tossed it into the bag and threw the pack over her shoulders. 

Ralof gave her a questioning glance, “A book? What happened to escaping this dragon?l 

“It caught my eye,” she shrugged then addressed Hadvar, “Forget them Hadvar, let's go.” 

“As you wish, princess.” 

They worked their way through the rest of the keep, neither of the men mentioned anything of Lyrica’s outburst. There were other more important things to worry about. One being the Stormcloak soldiers they kept running into. Then there were giant spiders. Lyrica had tried to burn them, but it seemed she couldn't cast magic. “Damn Ulfric and his poison.” 

“Poison?” Both men asked curiously.

“Ralof, you fed me… You didn't notice a magika blocking poison? It's why I didn't just burn you all and make my escape.” She replied frowning. Perhaps he is more innocent than I suspect. He may make a loyal guard yet. “Just as I could have burned these damned spiders to oblivion. Now quick before we get bitten.” There was no more conversation as the trio made quick work of the over sized arachnids. 

Further down into the cavern they encountered a bear, and Lyrica found an iron helmet. “Hmm. Do I look like a hero yet?” She asked placing it on her head. 

“You look like a fool.” Ralof replied raising a bow he took off a fallen Stormcloak earlier. Killing his brothers and sisters had been hard she figured, but after the first it seemed he'd made peace with it, “Now be quiet or you'll wake that bear sleeping further down.” 

“A bear?” She asked taking the bow from his hands, and an arrow from his quiver. For a moment she concentrated. Lyrica breathed in taking aim. She pulled back, the string growing taunt. Exhale and twick, the arrow loosed itself from the bow and flew. Her companions were quiet, waiting. However, her aim was true and the arrow made its mark sinking into the bear’s head. Lyrica let out a laugh smiling. 

“You had too much fun with that.” Ralof sighed taking the bow back. “However, your form was flawless.” 

“I know,” She smirked, “I practice everyday.” 

From there it was smooth sailing and soon the trio was stepping out into the light. 

 

Aron 

Later that evening Aron found himself sitting by the fire with Erik and his father Mralki. The usual farmhands who came for dinner were long gone and the few travelers who were staying the night were retired to their rooms. “So, Aron, are you finally going to tell us why you're in Rorikstead? Wasn't expecting you back this way for at least another week.” Erik asked, polishing his blade. 

“Aye, now's as good a time as any I suppose,” the man replied taking a swig from a bottle of mead, “remind me. What was it you asked earlier?” 

“Is Princess Lyrica okay? Rumor has it Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak took her prisoner. The other rumor is that your brother High King Torygg is dead, again the Jarl of Windhelm is the reason.” Erik replied placing the weapon down. 

“First off, yes, Torygg is dead, slain by Ulfric in an unfair match.” Aron said again taking a sip.

“Why was there a fight?” Mralki asked passing both men a bowl of stew, “last I heard the Jarl only wished to speak to the High King.”

“Oh he spoke to him. Shouted to him to be exact.” Aron replied nodding thanks for his bowl. “Knocked him off his feet then ran his sword right through Torygg’s heart. Torygg would have spoken with him if he hadn't challenged him like that.” 

“Ah,” the innkeep sighed, “A shame to lose his life that young, and in such a dishonorable way. . Your brother was not High King for long, but was a fair ruler in his short reign. May his soul rest in Sovngarde, and the Divines punish Jarl Ulfric accordingly.” 

“They will, if Lyri doesn't punish him first.” Aron said with a frown. “She is alive, by the way. Ulfric took her captive as he left Solitude. From the reports it sounded as if he was going to take her back to Windhelm, where he’d keep her his captive.” 

“What is your next move then?” Erik asked.

“Well, I was going to head to Whiterun first, and enlist the help of a friend of mine.” Aron replied with a small smile, “And then I was going to sneak into Windhelm and spirit Lyrica away before anyone was the wiser.” 

“You aren’t going to do anything about Jarl Ulfric then?” This time, it was Mralki who spoke, “No retribution for the treason?” 

“No, at least, not yet.” He began. Aron sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing, “We cannot possibly do a full scale infiltration of WIndhelm, and I certainly am not skilled enough to face Ulfric in single combat. No, for now I’m more interested in my sister’s wellbeing. Once Lyrica is back, and on the throne in Solitude, we can decide what would be the best way to take down Ulfric and his Stormcloaks.” 

Aron, for one, did not want to get into the politics of it all, but Ulfric taking his little sister hostage had made it personal now. For now, he would get his sister back, and then he would get retribution for wrongs on his family. He yawned, realizing just how exhausted he now was. Turning to the father and son he gave a small smile, “It’s been nice and all, but I’m going to hit the hay. As always, thank you friends for your hospitality.”

**Author's Note:**

> well, if you're reading this, I hope it means you've read the first chapter. Anyhow, comments are very welcome. I'd really appreciate any questions, or criticism (constructive of course) that you may have... Anyhow... Have a good day! I cannot promise how often I'll update, but I will try to get a chapter out every few months or so!


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